


Naughty or Nice

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidents, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cold Weather, Fluff and Crack, Kissing, M/M, Sharing a Bed, and so hilarity and light maiming ensue, but all in good fun, it is Christmas after all, nobody else realizes dean and cas already figured things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: Jack just wants to create a festive holiday wonderland in the bunker, but his plans never seem to work out the way he hopes. When Patience shows up to warn Dean of a psychic vision of his imminent demise, she inadvertently helps things go right (but only after they all go shockingly awry).





	Naughty or Nice

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began because Lizbob and I had a long chat about how Patience, like the psychic in 10.17 who only saw colors when he looked at Cas, might not really be able to get a fix on Jack. And if Jack were causing a bit of mayhem with a specific goal of pushing Dean and Cas together, wouldn't it be hilarious of Patience kept stepping in and stopping said mayhem... And I'd fully intended to write this as a purely cracky bit of nonsense. But as per usual, when I started writing it went all soft around the edges and turned into a great big fluffball of nog-soaked holiday sap.
> 
> (Maybe I'll write up the crack version for Valentine's day. Who knows. :D)

Things had been going about as well as could be expected with probably the most powerful being in creation now living full-time at the bunker. And in addition to Jack and the frequent random chaos that seemed to break out around him, there was Cas, too. When they’d finally both come home, Dean had been looking forward to spending some quality time with his newly-alive-again best friend. Unfortunately for Dean, Cas had been spending so much time playing babysitter and teacher to Jack that he hadn’t had much time to just hang out. Cas had been back for weeks now, and aside from that one night when Sam sat them all down to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , Dean felt like he’d barely even seen Cas.

Then again, someone had to be on their toes and at the ready to put out the various fires Jack started-- including one literal fire when Jack decided to teach himself how to cook. Dean grudgingly banned both Jack and Cas from the kitchen after that incident (even if Cas was able to extinguish the flames within moments, Dean’s best skillet and favorite spatula couldn’t be salvaged), which meant he saw Cas even less now. The big Cas-shaped hole in his life left Dean with a distinct lack of Christmas spirit, which Sam pointed out to him one evening in the middle of December after an unfortunate and frustrating series of events.

Dean had finally talked Cas into letting Jack do his own thing for a few hours, without any sort of supervision. It seemed safe enough. Jack hadn’t accidentally summoned a mountain lion into the infirmary or filled the shower room with aerosol cheese in over a week.

Gently encouraging a nephilim to get in touch with his powers definitely had some unanticipated side effects, and Cas was the only one who was equipped to help the kid deal with the fallout-- and thank fuck there hadn’t been any _literal_ fallout yet. But Jack had been doing so much better lately, becoming more confident overall as he learned that his power wasn’t something terrifying (even when it was a little bit terrifying). Though admittedly the power to accidentally turn water into cheese had potential.

What possible trouble could Jack get up to sitting alone in his room watching movies? Dean tried not to answer his own question before his imagination ran away from him and focused on being thrilled that he might be able to convince Cas to spend a few hours with _him_ instead.

Cas had just been hanging out with Dean in the kitchen while he cooked dinner (Cas’s banishment having been rescinded as long as he didn’t bring Jack along with him), when a sudden earth-shattering screeching and grinding noise screamed through the bunker. Cas took off like a flash while Dean let out a resigned groan and turned down the stove with one sad glance at his simmering pot of spaghetti sauce before loping off after him. By the time he’d joined Sam at the door to Jack’s room he knew his hopes for the evening had been dashed. He ground his teeth together, turned his back on the Seussian nightmare that had erupted in Jack’s room-- which Cas was frantically trying to help put to rights-- and stormed off back toward the kitchen.

“This is what you get for letting the giant toddler with god-like powers watch too many dumbass Christmas movies,” Dean muttered under his breath as he reached the kitchen doorway.

He heard footsteps stomping down the hall behind him and reared around with murder all over his face, only to see Sam put on the brakes a few yards away and out of immediate striking distance, his hands raised in surrender.

“Dude, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” Sam said, trying like crazy and failing to keep the grin off his face. “Jack’s just a little too eager to feel the holiday spirit.”

“So he summoned half of fucking Who-Ville into his room?” Dean replied. “Seems more like the Grinch who stole Christmas to me.”

“Hey, at least by the smell of it I think he summoned the rare Who roast beast, too. Now you don’t have to cook dinner.”

“This is not fucking funny, Sam,” Dean said, sticking one finger in Sam’s smirking face. “I thought he was starting to get the mojo shit under control. Or at least he’d figured out how to keep from accidentally hijacking cartoon holidays and breaking the bunker.”

“He’s very sorry, Dean,” Cas said, coming down the hall behind Sam and looking a bit more rumpled and exhausted than usual. “He was only practicing. He’d wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not the kind of surprise you can hide behind your back,” Dean grumbled, lowering his eyes and then heading back to the stove. It was the only practical reason he had to avoid looking directly at Cas, so he was gonna take it. “This is why I hate surprises. Around here, _surprise_ is usually synonymous with _disaster_.”

“There was no permanent harm done, Dean,” Cas informed him quietly. “Jack feels bad enough that his attempt to brighten up the bunker for the holidays was... so poorly received.”

Dean didn’t need to turn around to know exactly what look Sam and Cas were giving each other. A little disappointment, a little resignation, and a lot of guilt. He knew he was just as complicit in some of those surprise disasters, and he couldn’t stand being the one to bring everyone else down with him, especially when Jack had only been trying to do the exact opposite. His shoulders slumped in resignation and Dean finally turned back to see Cas’s downtrodden expression.

“Yeah, fine. I get it,” Dean offered, and then sighed. “It’s not real festive spending your first Christmas in a concrete box underground. If Jack wants to practice using his powers, it wouldn’t do any harm for him to try his hand at decking the halls.” At the hopeful expression threatening to break over Cas’s face, and in complete defiance of the wide-eyed shock on Sam’s, Dean hastily added, “Within reason! No stealing from fucking cartoons, and nothing that can’t be undone without a heavy dose of mojo. You’re looking a little rough, Cas. You gotta stop runnin’ yourself into the ground cleaning up his messes. He breaks it, he should have to buy it.”

Cas blinked up at Dean, the evidence that prompted Dean’s concern for his wellbeing etched in lines across his forehead and beneath his eyes. Cas had been working himself to near exhaustion lately, and half of Dean’s grumpiness over all the time Cas had been spending with Jack was due to an entirely legitimate concern for the state of Cas’s health. As much as Dean wanted to selfishly spend some time with his best friend, he couldn’t deny how badly Cas seemed to need a break, too. Even fully powered up, Cas had never been in Jack’s weight class; but now, running on a shred of his original juice and pushing himself to the limit since the moment he’d come back from the Empty had been taking its toll on Cas.

Dean realized he’d been staring, frowning at Cas for what was probably an inappropriately long time when Sam finally cleared his throat, reminding them both that he was still in the room.

“Cas, why don’t you take it easy tonight, maybe see if Dean needs help with dinner,” Sam suggested. “I’ll go talk to Jack. Lay down some ground rules for... appropriately festive ways to use his powers.”

Dean waved Sam off and went back to cooking, but Cas still hovered in the doorway. Whether listening for any sign of further surprises from Jack’s room or just reluctant to be a bother to Dean, or some combination of both, it wasn’t doing much for Dean’s nerves. He set a pot of water to boiling and then went to the fridge to grab a couple of beers, twisting off the caps before handing one to Cas as a peace offering.

“I got dinner under control. Take a load off and keep me company.” Dean wanted to keep the mood light, but he didn’t want to sound too personally needy, despite feeling extremely personally needy for Cas’s company. “It’s probably a nice change of pace for you to get a break, since Jack’s been taking up all your time lately”

“I enjoy Jack’s company,” Cas replied, turning the beer bottle around in his hands. “He sees the world in such interesting ways, that only someone who is completely new to it can.”

Dean loudly dumped a box of pasta into the pot and then set to aggressively chopping lettuce for Sam’s salad. He’d suspected that Cas actually enjoyed spending his time with Jack, and in Dean’s darker moments he even wondered if Cas was grateful for the excuse not to have to spend his time with him instead. But Cas didn’t allow Dean to continue down that dark path.

Cas sighed. “I have missed being able to spend time with you, though. It‘s been exhausting, in more ways than one.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, hoping that the heat spreading across his face was just the result of standing over the steaming pots on the stove. “Maybe now Sam’s laying down some house rules, you’ll have a little more time to relax.”

Cas hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of his beer. Yeah, they really needed a break.

 

 

The next few days proved to be a mixture of surprises that weren’t entirely disasters and a general feeling of increasing merriment as Christmas drew nearer. Five days after the invasion of Who-ville, Dean finally admitted that Jack’s festive additions to the bunker were actually making his heart grow at least one size. Maybe two.

Sure, Cas was still spending a few hours a day with Jack, but it was beginning to become clear to Dean that this was a specific period blocked out of each day almost like some sort of regular study time. He’d joked with Cas after the third day that he was gonna have school spirit t-shirts printed for the two of them. Castiel’s Mojo Academy for Beginner Nephilim. He’d also teased Sam about being the muggle studies professor for both Jack and Cas after he’d walked into the library that morning. All three of them were huddled around Sam’s laptop, looking through websites featuring traditional and modern holiday decor and debating whether it was necessary to hang stockings from an actual chimney or if some other feature in the bunker would suffice. Dean had rolled his eyes at the three of them, but he’d taken his coffee and retreated to his room while school was in session.

He’d discovered he was a lot happier not knowing how many disasters prefaced each new joyous addition to the decor. It was far less stressful just admiring the Sam-and-Cas-approved end result. Case in point, the fully functioning fireplace Jack had mojo’ed up in the library, complete with a large stone hearth and four fuzzy red and white stockings hung from the mantle with care. He wasn’t about to ask how the fire never seemed to burn low or where the smoke was going, since they didn’t actually have a chimney. He was definitely better off not knowing.

Jack’s first successfully jolly addition had been a heavy garland of pine boughs, golden baubles and bows, woven together with tiny white lights and draped artfully along the entire length of the stairway and balcony railing in the war room. Dean’s first thought had been to wonder where the hell all those lights were plugged in, but he quickly decided that was probably something else he’d be happier not knowing. For the first time since they’d found the bunker, the war room felt oddly warm and cozy instead of, well, like a war room.

The next time Dean passed through, a huge Christmas tree decorated to match the garlands had appeared beside the balcony; a luxurious red and gold velvet skirt beneath it already harboring several decoratively wrapped gifts. Dean’s curiosity got the better of him and he dropped the books he’d intended to return to the library onto the table before looking around to make sure nobody would catch him. He crouched down to pick up one of the gifts. The golden-wrapped box was slightly smaller than a breadbox and tied with a thick green ribbon. It had a bit of heft to it, though, and Dean’s instinct was that it must be books. Or maybe rocks. A tag tucked into the bow read _To Sam, Love Jack_. He frowned down at it, imagining it was a fifty-fifty likelihood on either being books or rocks, knowing Jack. Dean gave it a little shake and set it back under the tree.

He considered picking up the other two packages, both of them smaller than Sam’s, but he decided against it. Dean assumed one of the elegantly wrapped packages was for Cas and the other was for him, and then frowned. He’d bought presents for everyone, but they were hastily wrapped in the wrinkled brown paper that had come stuffed in the box that Sam’s new laptop had been shipped in, and then hastily sealed with duct tape. He couldn’t let himself be outdone in the wrapping department by a six month old. He frowned and wondered if it was too late to learn origami or some shit. He made a mental note to google _how to wrap gifts_ later as he heard Cas shuffling into the room behind him. Dean turned around to see Cas admiring the decorations fondly before pulling out a chair and slumping heavily into it.

Dean moved over to the head of the table beside Cas and sat down next to him. “Looks like the lessons are going well. No grinches or bumbles, anyway.”

“We could’ve used a bumble to put the star on top of the tree,” Cas said tiredly, smiling up at the glowing star. It was nearly as high as the top of the balcony railing.

“I thought Jack was decorating with mojo? Isn’t he just--” Dean waved his hand in a little circle and poked his fingers toward the tree like a magician performing a trick.

Cas shrugged. “He’s being very careful about how he uses his powers. We went through a dozen different variations before he finally settled on that star.”

“Really?” Dean asked, turning back to see the grimace on Cas’s face. “I’m surprised he didn’t go with an angel.”

Cas’s grimace deepened into a scowl. “I was the angel atop the tree at one point, and made it explicitly clear that that was not acceptable. I think that’s why he settled on the star instead. Jack said something about there not being another angel he knew that deserved to be so honored.”

Dean did his best not to laugh, but Cas continued to scowl at him anyway. Dean held up his hands in surrender. “I mean I can’t argue with the kid’s logic. You’re the least douchey angel I’ve ever met.”

Cas looked confused, like he wasn’t sure that was a real compliment. Dean smiled softly at him and leaned closer, patting Cas’s knee and speaking quietly.

“Come on, Cas. Angel or otherwise, you’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied softly, the confusion melting away, leaving behind only the bedraggled exhaustion that had become Cas’s baseline status over the last few months. “I could say the same of you.”

Dean felt a prickling warmth fill him at Cas’s words, and he sincerely hoped it didn’t spread outward to his cheeks, but he was afraid he was turning pink anyway. He cleared his throat, gave Cas’s knee a gentle squeeze and stood up, holding out a hand toward Cas.

“Come on. Why don’t we make some hot chocolate and find a couple of Christmas movies to watch.” Dean felt his face flush even warmer as Cas gazed up at him with a look of shocked wonder, and he scrambled to make the offer sound more casual. “You know, since all this holiday spirit shit seems to be having an effect.”

Cas slowly reached out and took Dean’s offered hand, pulling himself to his feet. The two of them stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, somehow entirely unperturbed by the fact that they were still holding hands. Dean’s heart raced as he looked into Cas’s eyes, finally feeling that maybe they were both on the same page for once after so many frustrating near misses and a hell of a lot of… _Hell_ , and even worse things getting in the way over the years. He felt himself leaning in just a little closer, and his breath caught as Cas leaned in just a little bit more too. Dean’s brain started fuzzing out with only a few inches remaining between them, and just as he was about to let his eyes slip shut and step off the proverbial cliff, he realized it wasn’t brain fuzz he was seeing.

A cold blop of something landed on his cheek and slid down his face. And then another, and another. He leaned back and saw Cas’s hair and shoulders dusted with melting snowflakes, which landed on his cheeks and eyelashes as Cas tilted his face up toward the ceiling, and the source of their spontaneous snowfall. Dean’s thoughts spluttered at the sight for a split second as he painfully wrenched himself from the wondrous _he looks beautiful like this_ back around to _it’s not supposed to snow indoors no matter how gorgeous Cas looks_.

“What the fuck is this?” Dean said, holding out one hand and catching the now rapidly falling snow before wiping his palm dry on his shirt.

He and Cas both looked around the room with concern, only to discover the sudden indoor flurries were confined to a three foot radius around them. Cas took a step back and Dean felt his heart sink. They’d been _so fucking close_ , and whatever bullshit indoor goddamn snowfall this was had ruined it. He sighed as Cas frowned up at him apologetically.

“I should probably go speak to Jack about this.”

Dean nodded, resigned, looking down at the puddle of slush growing at his feet. “Yeah, I should probably go get a mop or something.”

Before either of them had a chance to move, there was a loud banging on the bunker door. They weren’t expecting company, and it’s not like the Avon Lady ever stopped by the creepy old abandoned power plant. Dean pulled a knife from his belt as Cas let his angel blade drop into his hand, and with a nod they both turned toward the stairs. Cas had only taken a single step when the banging started up again even louder than before, now accompanied by muffled shouting. From the sound of it, someone was in serious distress out there.

Dean took off at run, but the comfy slippers he’d been wearing lived up to their name. House slippers, melting slush, a concrete floor, and a potential emergency situation were a dangerous combination. Dean’s foot landed in a clump of snow that hadn’t quite melted yet, and he went sliding like a cartoon character stepping on a banana peel. He ended up going airborne for a moment, just long enough for his other foot to tangle around Cas’s leg, bringing Cas down on top of him as they crashed to the floor.

Under other circumstances, Dean would’ve had no complaints about their current position, but lying in a puddle of melting snow on the concrete floor after Cas’s entire body weight had come crashing down on top of him-- only barely missing him with the business end of his angel blade in the process-- was not how he’d ever imagined this happening. Not to mention, whoever was outside was still banging on the door, even more frantically now.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas asked, looking stunned and almost horrified at how close he’d come to accidentally stabbing Dean.

To Dean’s dismay, Cas slowly climbed off him. In all honesty, Cas’s warm body stretched out on top of him had been the only enjoyable part of this entire ordeal. “My ass is bruised and my entire back is soaked and frozen, but yeah. I think I’m good.”

Cas smiled at him apologetically and got to his feet, offering Dean a hand up this time. Dean groaned as he got to his feet, allowing himself to use his momentum to get right up into Cas’s face as he did. To his immense pleasure, Cas actually smiled at the invasion of his personal space.

The snow was still falling, but at least they’d gotten out from under it. They cast a glance up at the ceiling, watching the snowflakes materialize in thin air before falling to the ground. Dean frowned at Cas and shrugged.

“We’ll see who’s shouting bloody murder at the door, and then you can get Jack to turn off the indoor blizzard.”

“I hardly think it qualifies as a blizzard, Dean.” Cas smiled as he said it, and Dean smiled back.

They made their way carefully and quietly across the floor and up the steps, while their visitor continued to pound on the door. As they ascended the spiral stairs to the outer door, Dean paused and frowned back at Cas.

“That sounds like Patience... “

He quickened his steps and listened at the door for a few seconds to confirm it before throwing back the bolt and easing the door open. Patience’s words became clear the moment the door cracked open.

“Sam, Dean, I had a vision. Something bad’s coming. I saw Dean being attacked in the snow by a man with a long silver sw...”

Patience stopped mid-sentence, blinking down at the long silver sword currently gripped in Castiel’s hand as he stood beside Dean in the doorway. Dean couldn’t help the grin on his face as he gestured casually at Cas with the knife in his own hand.

“Did my attacker look kinda like this guy?”

Patience opened and closed her mouth a couple times, so Dean barreled on.

“If so, you just missed the attack.” Dean turned a smirk on Cas, who squinted back and just shook his head. “In fact, it was more of a perfect storm of really unfortunate coincidences.”

Dean stood back, pulling Cas by the sleeve to give Patience room to enter the bunker.

“Well, you comin’ in? We’re not paying to heat the entire state of Kansas.”

It was such a dad thing to say it snapped Patience into action. She shook her head and stepped into the bunker, pulling the door shut behind her to keep the heat in. Dean bolted the door as she descended the stairs, and Cas leaned in, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s as a little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“We don’t pay to heat the interior of the bunker, either, Dean.”

“We didn’t pay for the life-size snow globe in the war room, either, but that don’t make it any less of a problem.”

Cas frowned and nodded. “I suppose we each have an issue to deal with now.”

“Rain check on movie time?” Dean asked as they followed Patience down to the balcony, where they found her standing at the railing, gawping at the magical snow still falling to the floor below. “This is not what I had in mind when I was planning a snow day.” he grumbled under his breath before sighing and setting a hand on Patience’s shoulder.

She turned her wide-eyed look on Dean, and then snapped her mouth shut as she glanced warily at Cas.

“I… I thought you were in danger, Dean. Jody and the others left this morning for Donna’s for the holiday, but I needed to make sure you were okay, so I…” She cleared her throat and glanced timidly up at Cas. “I guess he’s not trying to kill you, then?”

Dean laughed and grinned at Cas. “Yeah, not so much. Patience, this is Castiel; part-time angel and full-time Winchester. Cas, this is Patience Turner, psychic extraordinaire.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Patience,” Cas said earnestly. “I’d stay for pleasantries, but I have a different sort of emergency to deal with first.” He waved a hand at the falling snow, nodded past Patience to Dean, and then hastily made his way down the stairs and through the war room in search of Jack.

“D-does it always snow indoors here, or is that just part of the holiday decor?” she finally managed to get out as they watched Cas disappear down the hallway.

“Neither,” Dean said, shaking himself as he realized he was just staring at an empty doorway. He started down the stairs and Patience reluctantly followed him. “We’re having some technical difficulties with our decorator. Can I get you anything? Coffee? I think we got some hot chocolate. I guess it was a pretty long drive.”

“Coffee sounds good, actually.”

The thought of a hot drink sent a shiver down Dean’s spine with the reminder that his clothes were still thoroughly soaked with snow. He wanted nothing more than to get himself a hot shower and some dry clothes, but he figured he at least needed to get Patience settled first. He led her into the kitchen and set to work making a fresh pot of coffee while she sat warily at the table.

“So the rest of the girl gang’s spending Christmas with Donna?” Dean asked casually. Normal talk about normal shit was about the best he could offer her, aside from the coffee.

“Um, yeah. They’re probably almost there. I told them to go on ahead without me, that I’d catch up tomorrow.”

Dean nodded approvingly and set a couple mugs on the counter. “The local forecast is calling for snow this afternoon. You know, _outside_ snow. You might be stuck here for a couple days, but you’re welcome to stay. If you don’t mind the occasional indoor snow, or whatever the hell else the kid cooks up.”

He poured their coffee and set a mug down in front of Patience, who warmed her hands on it before taking a sip. Dean remained standing, because even the thought of sitting down on the chilly wet patch on the back of his jeans was making him twitch. He’d had just about all he could take of it, so he grabbed a tin of Christmas cookies off a nearby shelf and set it on the table in front of Patience with an apologetic smile.

“I gotta get into some dry clothes, and I can sort out the guest room for you when I get back. Make yourself comfortable, and try not to touch anything while I’m gone. Never know what kinda shit’s going down around here lately.”

Patience just nodded again, looking between the cookies and Dean.

“But uh… thank you,” Dean said, edging toward the doorway, his eyes trained on the mug in his hand. “Thanks for running down here just because you thought I was in danger. I, uh… I appreciate it.”

Patience finally laughed. “Well I’m glad you’re okay, but I think next time I might just call to make sure you’re actually in mortal danger before I spend half the day in the car, get myself stranded by a blizzard and miss out on Christmas with my friends.”

“Hey,” Dean said, smiling tentatively at her. “We’re your friends, too. If you’re stuck here for Christmas, at least it’s not a total loss. Just don’t use your psychic powers to find out what everyone’s presents are. That’s cheating.”

“Whatever you say, Tiny Tim. Go change. I’ll be right here.”

 

 

Dean passed by Jack’s door on his way to his room and paused for just a second when he heard Cas’s voice kindly but firmly making sure Jack understood that snow indoors was both uncomfortable as well as a safety concern. Cas moved on to detail how some of the artifacts and books in the library could be sensitive to changes in humidity before Dean had to make a run for it before he burst out laughing and gave himself away as the sneaky little eavesdropper he was.

God, but he sounded so much like a professor scolding a misbehaving student. It gave Dean ideas he didn’t have time for, and the entire situation didn’t get any easier as he stripped out of his clothes. A continuous loop of _do not think about Cas and his sexy professor voice while naked_ ran through his head, and he caught himself muttering it aloud a time or two as he pulled on a dry pair of boxers.

He frowned down at himself and his body’s persistent reaction, and promptly wrenched his thoughts around to the first unsexy thing he could think of. His brain was being highly uncooperative as it supplied the image of Cas perched atop the Christmas tree, again using that damn professor voice to explain to Jack that he would not be spending the rest of the week playing the role of treetopper. Dean growled out a noise of pure frustration and struggled to pull on a pair of jeans, casting about for anything else to distract him from his inappropriate thoughts about Cas.

As he pulled out a clean t-shirt from his drawer, he saw the three sadly wrapped gifts he’d hidden there, and then thought of Patience out in the kitchen. If she was gonna be stuck with them for the holiday, she’d miss out on the gifts that Team Free Will 2.0 had already shipped off to their Wayward Sisters. Jody was taking all their presents to Donna’s, including the things they’d picked out together for Patience. Dean frowned, glad that something had distracted him from his Cas-related issues, but upset on Patience’s behalf.

He slid his feet back into his slippers, hopeful that he wouldn’t run into any snow drifts in the hallway, and headed back to the kitchen. Jack’s door was open when he passed this time, and his room was now empty. He wondered if that was a good sign-- if miraculously it hadn’t taken long for him to understand the new house rules-- or a terrible sign. He wondered what new decorating idea Jack would come up with next, and hoped it wasn’t another disaster waiting to happen.

Dean was nearly back  to the kitchen when he heard what sounded like singing out in the war room and hesitantly peeked in to see what Jack was up to now. Cas sat at the table with his back to Dean, while Jack mopped up the last of the melted snow, which had blessedly stopped falling. It took a second for Dean to recognize the tune as the Twelve Days of Christmas, and he spared a moment to shudder at the thought of Jack somehow making the lyrics literal. The last thing he needed was the bunker filling up with fucking _birds_.

He backtracked toward the kitchen, only to find Sam sitting across from Patience, deep in discussion about the vision that had brought her to the bunker. Sam laughed as he explained Jack’s Christmas decorating adventures, and the low-level chaos that had ensued. Dean went to refill his mug and then reached for one of the cookies before retreating to lean against the counter to wait for Sam to finish his story.

“So, I guess we need to find a room for Patience,” Dean said, checking his watch. “It’s too late for her to turn right around and drive to Minnesota. Not to mention it’s supposed to dump a foot of snow on us tonight. That’s no kinda condition to be driving in on Christmas eve eve.”

“Christmas eve eve?” Sam said, turning a disbelieving face on his brother. “So, what, the ghost of Christmas yet to come has finally un-Scrooged you?”

Dean scowled at him over his coffee cup, but shrugged, and turned to Patience. “Speaking of Christmas yet to come, did you let Jody know you’re here safe, and everything’s fine?”

Patience rolled her eyes, but pulled out her phone and dashed off a quick text. “Yes, dad.” Before she could set her phone back down, it chimed and she read off Jody’s reply. “She says they made it to Donna’s, and not to even think about trying to drive through the blizzard to get there.”

The phone chimed again, and this time so did Dean’s. He pulled out his phone and saw the message from Jody to both him and Patience. _Glad to hear you’re not dead. Have a safe and merry Christmas._ He snorted at how far Jody had come since the days when she was the least bit surprised about any of the bullshit of their lives. Long gone was her shock at the news that things like angels existed. Now Dean could tell her things pretty casually, like, _Lucifer’s son is doing our holiday decorating this year_ , and Jody wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. The whackadoo was all just a routine part of her life now.

“Well in that case, I’d better go out and get my gear before the weather gets any worse. You’re sure it’s not too much trouble for me to stay?”

Dean snorted, but Sam stood up to walk with her to her car. “You’re more than welcome. We’ve been here more than five years and still haven’t explored the entire place. Trust me, there’s plenty of space. And if I know Dean, he’s stocked up with enough food for three Christmas feasts.” He cast a smirk back at Dean as he headed for the doorway. “Or we could always have Jack zap us up another roast beast.”

Dean groaned at Sam’s suggestion, but confirmed that they were glad to have Patience there. “You’re always welcome here, Patience. Even if it’s just to get away from the rest of the world for a few days. Maybe next time you could just, you know, try picking up the phone if you get another life or death kind of vision. Save yourself missing out on all the fun you could’ve been having at Donna’s instead of being stuck underground in a dusty old bunker with a bunch of boring old losers.”

“You’re not so bad, Dean,” she said, rolling her eyes and downing the last of her coffee. Dean smiled back at her and shook his head, holding out a hand for her empty cup.

As she stood up and set the cup in Dean’s outstretched hand, Patience gasped, her face a sudden mask of horror. She swayed on her feet, and Dean caught her by the shoulder and helped her back into her seat.

“What’s wrong? Patience?”

She blinked out of her psychic vision and gaped at Dean for a second. “I saw the man again-- or, I guess the angel. Cas.” She blinked again, shaking her head at the reminder that she’d exchanged pleasantries with an actual _angel_ , and the full reality of that fact hadn’t really settled in yet. Her vision was more of an immediate concern. “He was… in pain. So cold. And afraid.”

That’s all Dean needed to hear before he was racing back to the war room to find Cas. He rounded the end of the hall and grabbed on to the door jamb to propel himself around the corner into the library so he wouldn’t go skidding into the wall. He bolted across the wooden floor as fast as his slippered feet would carry him. He noticed the snowy mess in the war room had been entirely cleared away, as if it had never been there at all. He also didn’t see any signs of Cas or Jack.

Dean’s heart slammed against his ribs and he yelled out for Cas, making a snap decision on which way to run next. Patience’s description was vague enough to generate an endless parade of horror in his own mind, each imagined nightmare scenario exponentially worse than the last. Cas _in pain_ , and _afraid_. As far as he knew, Cas didn’t really feel pain like a human, and if something made the eternally cool and stoic Cas afraid, it had to be borderline end-of-the-world bad.

He leaped down the stairs into the war room and nearly slid into the end of the map table, stopping short of kneecapping himself by bracing his hands against the edge of the table. He only paused long enough to do a frantic eeny-meeny-miney-moe over which doorway to run through before some instinct took over and he dashed off toward the lab. As he neared the door, he heard the scraping clatter of a heavy piece of furniture being violently shoved across the floor. It sounded like one of the large wooden tables being flung at high velocity before crashing against the wall. He could already feel an icy chill in the air, and his breath came out in great puffs of steam.

It had to either be the most powerful fucking ghost they’d ever had the displeasure to face, or some sort of frost elemental. Dean spared a single horrified thought that Jack had summoned Frosty the Snowman’s hat or some shit and had accidentally turned Cas into a living snowman who was melting out in the comfortably warm bunker. _No, not possible. Cas gave him the lecture about not conjuring up cartoons_.

After another giddy second, Dean chastised himself for letting Sam sucker him in to bingewatching their way through the entire childhood canon of holiday programs, just so Jack could get it all out of his system. That would teach Dean to drink that much egg nog in tandem with that many Christmas cookies, anyway. That shit had given him nightmares.

“Jack, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Cas said, and yep. That was definitely coming from the lab.

Dean detected a definite note of unease in Cas’s voice. It wasn’t the lecturing professor voice that had him so hot and bothered earlier, but Dean wouldn’t describe it as pained or afraid either. The air temperature kept dropping, though, so maybe he would be just in time to stop whatever horror show Patience saw in her vision. He put on one last heroic burst of speed and barreled into the lab.

And that’s when everything went sideways.

Literally.

The normally smooth concrete floor had been replaced by a shimmering sheet of ice, and the moment Dean’s foot landed on the slick surface he went down. Hard. With the momentum of all the speed he possessed propelling him along the floor like a torpedo.

All the furniture in the room had been stacked against the far wall to clear a space for Jack to work some holiday magic. It would’ve been great for ice skating, but it left Dean nothing to grab on to to slow his slide. Instead he instinctively clawed at the floor, scrabbling for purchase with his fingertips, his feet kicking out wildly toward the shelves along the wall just a few feet beyond his reach. The action of a mere few seconds stretched out for an eternity as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. Until he reached the spot where Cas stood, horrified, as Dean crashed into him.

They both saw it coming, almost as if Jack had been using his powers to make it all happen in slow motion, but neither of them could do anything to stop it. Cas tried to both step out of the way of a direct hit and crouch down to catch Dean before he went slamming into anything else, but he’d underestimated the slickness of the ice and overestimated the traction he was able to get in his stupidly impractical dress shoes. Angel or not, he was still subject to the laws of physics just like everyone else. Crouched down and feet slipping and sliding in every direction but out of Dean’s way, with Dean’s feet flying akimbo but on an overall trajectory for a direct impact, Cas took the brunt of the hit directly to his stomach. One of Dean’s feet caught in the belt of Cas’s coat and pulled him the rest of the way off his feet, and the two of them together sailed the rest of the way across the room in a tangled and aching heap. They crashed hard into one of the tables Jack had stacked against the far wall, shattering the table leg and sending the table everything stacked atop it crashing down on top of them.

Somehow along their journey, Dean had ended up almost on top of Cas, pulled by the foot still tangled up in Cas’s coat into an uncomfortable position straddling Cas’s chest. Cas clung to him tightly, otherwise Dean would’ve been far worse off than he was, if he’d been dragged along by his ankle. So instead of having multiple dislocated joints and broken bones, Dean’s biggest problem was once again a disconcerting amount of full-frontal horizontal contact with Cas. Well, aside from the doubly-bruised ass and the sheer number of books and instrument trays they were currently buried beneath.

“Dean,” Cas growled out when they’d finally stopped moving. “Dean, are you okay?”

And yep, Cas’s voice crackled with fear and strained with a hint of unspoken pain. And fuck if it wasn’t freezing damn cold. Dean wasn’t as soaked through as he’d been after landing in the snowy slush in the war room, but Jack had apparently been dead set on making sure his ice sheet didn’t succumb to the same fate as his life-size snow globe. Not only was the ice completely solid, but the air temperature in the entire room was well below freezing.

Dean groaned as he felt Jack frantically digging them out from beneath the pile of rubble, the weight pressing down on his back lightening considerably moment by moment. Cas’s arms hadn’t loosened their grip around him, so he resigned himself to speaking into the crook of Cas’s neck.

“I’ve been better. But what about you?”

Jack lifted the table from where it had collapsed across Cas’s legs and pulled them out of the mess enough for Dean to raise his head and look Cas in the face. Patience had been right. Cas was cold, in pain, and afraid. Only Dean hadn’t prevented it from happening, he’d _caused_ it. Cas didn’t answer, but asked a question of his own.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Why did you come running in here so quickly?”

Dean closed his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead down on Cas’s shoulder. He was such an idiot, and this was the proof. Cas would be better off staying far the hell away from him. Every time he’d ever thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , things could be good with Cas, the world had conspired to remind him in graphic detail just how much of a fuckup he really was. He always ended up hurting the people he loved, and here was the absolute proof.

If this was going to be as close as he ever got, then he was damn well gonna make it count. He let himself have just a few seconds to savor the warm weight of Cas’s arms around him, the solid strength of Cas beneath him, and the scent of him that only seemed stronger in the frigid air, as if the brutal cold somehow distilled and amplified the essence of Cas. Or maybe it was just because his nose was buried in Cas’s collar. He gathered himself up and took one final breath as he felt Cas’s hand begin to rub gently and reassuringly along his back. He knew he didn’t deserve that comfort, and Cas was about to learn exactly why that was.

“Patience had another vision,” Dean said, and just as he expected, Cas’s hand stilled.

“Is there an emergency?” Cas asked.

Jack even paused in his cleanup. “Is there a hunt?”

“No hunt,” Dean said, without even trying to move to look at Jack. Regardless, Jack was satisfied enough with that answer to return to his work. “She saw you, Cas. She saw you cold, hurt, and scared, and I thought… I mean, her visions… this isn’t how they usually work. They give her warning so she can _stop_ the bad thing from happening.”

Cas did something that Dean hadn’t been expecting at all. He laughed. At the doorway, because neither Patience nor Sam were idiots who just go running in without looking first, Patience gasped, immediately followed by Sam’s outburst of, “What the hell?”

Cas only laughed harder, cut short by a groan of pain.

“Shit, Cas, are you hurt?” Dean said, attempting to slide off him so he could give him a more thorough exam. Unfortunately he’d forgotten about his tangled foot. Instead of carefully climbing off to one side, Dean ended up faceplanting on the ice and dragging Cas with him. Now they lay side by side on the ice, Dean with one leg wrapped around Cas’s back, Cas still holding him in a tight embrace.

“Uh…” Sam said from the doorway, still too smart to venture out onto the ice. “Is this supposed to be some sort of kama sutra thing?”

Dean shot his brother a glare and noticed Patience biting her lip and trying not to laugh. Meanwhile, Jack had come over to unceremoniously untangle his foot, and then gave the two of them a shove that sent Dean and Cas gliding smoothly back toward the door.

“Coulda just turned the floor back into floor,” Dean muttered as Jack smiled down contentedly at him.

At the door, Sam and Patience pulled them out into the relative warmth of the hallway. Sam exchanged a grim glance with Cas before carefully making his way into the lab to give Jack yet another set of house rules.

“I have no idea what’s up with my visions, but this was definitely not supposed to happen,” Patience said, helping them both to their feet.

Cas groaned again, clearly suffering after his second surprise attack in less than an hour. “Dean said this was exactly what your vision predicted.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “But usually when I act on a vision, it changes the outcome. Telling Dean that I saw you cold and afraid was supposed to _stop_ it from happening, not _cause_ it to happen.”

Cas frowned, remembering something another psychic had told him once. “What do you see when you look at me?”

Patience’s brow drew down in confusion and she shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“Another psychic once told me that he couldn’t get an accurate read on me because I’m an angel. Perhaps that’s somehow interfering with your visions now.”

“Accurate read on you?”

“He said he only saw colors,” Sam said, shuffling out into the hall with a contrite Jack at his heels.

With a wave of Jack’s hand, the entire lab was restored to its former non-frozen glory. Well, now enhanced with a garland of pine and rainbow colored lights adorning the bookshelves, and a tiny train set in a wintry Christmas village tooting its way around the newly-repaired table.

Patience blinked dazedly into the room, and then at Jack.

“Colors?” Her voice came out in a cracked whisper. She cleared her throat and carefully looked between Cas and Jack before focusing on Cas. “You’re no different from Dean in my head, but Jack? He’s… something else.”

Jack smiled at her. “I am.”

The five of them stood in the hallway for a few moments just staring at one another until Cas shifted on his feet and let out another little pained moan.

“Well, now that we settled that, I’m calling an official end to the day. I’m fucking done,” Dean said.

“If it’s all right with everyone, I would like to do the same,” Cas added. “I think I need to rest. It’s been a taxing evening.”

“You can get Patience set up in the guest room?” Dean asked turning his entire body toward Sam because he was still too cold and stiff to move properly. Sam nodded, so Dean kept turning toward Jack. “And you promise not to fuck with anything else until at least tomorrow?”

His shoulders slumped, but Jack nodded.

“So, Cas,” Dean said, trying to keep the hope out of his voice and off his face, just in case Cas had had enough of his shit for the day, too. “You still up for that movie?”

Cas blinked in surprise at him, but smiled. “Yes, I think that sounds relaxing.”

The two of them shuffled down the hall and around the corner toward the kitchen, as Jack grinned at their retreating forms. When they were gone, Sam, Patience, and Jack set off toward the front door to retrieve Patience’s suitcase from her car. Jack turned to Sam and confessed. “It didn’t work out exactly as I’d hoped, but at least they’re finally getting what they’d wanted.”

“Wait,” Sam said. “You mean you did all of this _on purpose_?”

Jack looked dejected at Sam’s accusation. “I didn’t _hurt_ them on purpose. It was supposed to be romantic. Standing in the snow by the light of the Christmas tree, and then ice skating and having hot chocolate later. I know Dean wanted to spend more time with Cas, but he’s been spending most of his time helping me with my powers. I thought the best way to prove I don’t need his help as much anymore was to do something truly good for them.”

“Wait, so if I hadn’t shown up to warn them about a nonexistent threat, they wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place?” Patience asked, horrified that her psychic powers could’ve betrayed her this way.

“That’s not entirely true,” Cas said, turning from where he and Dean had been slowly limping off toward Dean’s room with a six pack of beer they’d fetched from the kitchen. “Dean and I had been planning to watch a movie together tonight anyway. Jack’s indoor snowstorm forced us to cancel our plans, even before you arrived. I was in the process of trying to talk Jack out of constructing the skating rink, to no avail, until Dean came running into the room, because of your vision.”

“Heh,” Sam said, slapping one giant mitt down on each of their shoulders. “It looks like the two of you together canceled each other out.”

Jack and Patience exchanged a nervous glance before turning to Dean and Cas. From the remorseful look on Jack’s face, Patience spoke for both of them.

“Okay, we promise not to interfere in your love life anymore.”

Dean choked and spluttered over Patience’s choice of words, his entire face turning red as Cas gently patted his shoulder. Sam broke out into hysterical laughter, but waved Dean and Cas off.

“Go on, guys,” he said between pained guffaws. “Go take care of your love life. It’s about damn time. We swear to Chuck we won’t interfere in any way.”

Dean let Cas lead him away, but muttered something under his breath about someone’s long history of moosus interruptus as he cast one last glare back at his cackling brother.

 

 

In the privacy of his room, Dean cracked open a couple of beers and handed one to Cas. He chugged half of his own before taking a few deep breaths and working up the nerve to speak. Cas stayed right up in his personal space, his face carefully blank, not making this any easier to deal with.

“So, our love life,” Dean finally said in a shaky voice, unable to meet Cas’s eyes.

Cas didn’t reply for a moment, and Dean was afraid he was about to put the kibosh on any such notion. Cas instead turned it back around on him. “I was under the impression that you were about to kiss me earlier, when it began to snow.”

“I, uh… maybe?” Dean replied. “You weren’t objecting. Or, uh, at least that’s the impression I was getting.”

Cas slowly shook his head, plucked Dean’s mostly empty beer bottle from his hand, and set both bottles down on the dresser. “I’m not objecting now, either.”

“But--” Dean started, ready with a thousand reasons why Cas shouldn’t want this, but Cas knew just how to shut him up.

Cas leaned in slowly, giving Dean plenty of opportunity to back away. Every self-loathing reason Dean could’ve made to himself to avoid this flew out the non-existent window, and he finally closed the distance between them. This time the brain fuzz was real, all his objections shot down in the lightning strike that surged through him as Cas kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him in tight, deepening the kiss until Cas hissed in pain.

“Ah, right,” Dean said, remembering that he ached all over, as well, as soon as the initial shock of bliss at finally kissing Cas had worn off. “Come on. Let’s get comfy and then we can get back to figuring out our love life in peace.”

Dean reached up and pushed Cas’s coat off his shoulders, gently massaging the back of his neck and pulling him in for another soft kiss. He stepped back and kicked off his slippers before gingerly pulling off his flannel shirt and tossing it over his chair. With a nod from Dean, Cas began undressing too, both of them stripping down to t-shirts and boxers. Dean pulled back the covers and sat at the edge of the bed to pull off his socks, and then carefully shifted until he was comfortably settled against his pillow.

“Grab the laptop, Cas,” he said, pointing at the desk beside Cas. “What are you in the mood to watch?”

“Nothing that has anything to do with Christmas,” Cas replied, handing the laptop to Dean and hesitantly climbing beneath the covers, situating himself practically at the edge of the bed.

Dean set the laptop on his nightstand and pulled Cas close again. “Or we don’t have to watch anything at all.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “We could discuss our love life.” The phrase sounded so strange coming from Cas, but he said it in the damn sexy professor voice, and shockingly enough, it was an offer Dean couldn’t refuse.

“We didn’t even need any mistletoe,” Dean replied, before leaning in for a kiss. It was the easiest life-altering discussion of his entire life, and didn’t require a single additional word.

It must’ve been a Christmas miracle.

**Author's Note:**

> Ho ho ho, and seasons greetings, and all that. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you haven't had enough holiday nonsense, there's one line in this story that essentially pokes fun at [last year's holiday fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892661), wherein I took the Twelve Days of Christmas and filled the bunker with birds. If that sounds like your kind of thing, you're welcome. :D
> 
> As usual, if you enjoy ridiculous nonsense, I'm on the tumbls. Come visit. I'm [mittensmorgul](https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com).
> 
> (or if you're just interested in a direct link to the post for this story, [it's right here](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/168779997810/rating-t-words-9k-tags-christmas-fluff-fluff))


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